Calling Backup
by Grigiocuore
Summary: He taught her how to be a knight. She taught him how to be a friend. Lassiter and O'Hara, detectives, friends, allies, brothers: in other words, partners. Because sometimes, both when you're walking on the sky and when all is crashing down, all you want is having a good backup. Lassiet Bromance, later Shassie and Gus/ Jules.
1. Cheerios-flavored Beginnings

_Here we are at (yet) another collection of short Psych stories! This time, one of my favourite theme: Lassiet Bromance, also known as the sweetest, most tender, strangest friendship in the history of Cable TV. Apart from the jokes, I deeply love these two together: Lassie for being, well, his messed adorable self, and Jules for being the first to scratch his gruff surface and decipher a bit of his convulso heart. I have a bunch of nearly-finished-but-not-really one-shots about them, in which I'll try to explore some of this bond's shades. Some will be funny, other tender (hopefully), other quite angsty. A note: I'm making a Canon version of it on Psychfic, but my Slash soul wanted this too: so there would be hints of Shassie and Gules (Gus/Jules). The timeline would not be so neat, as to say I will put the stories in whatever order I'll like. For the rest, enjoy, and thanks so much for embarking yourself in this new adventure of mine._

_The first chapter is set somewhere in the first season. The cereal idea came to me from "Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing" and Carlton's compulsive ravaging Henry's supplies. Such a cutie._

**Cheerios-flavored Beginnings**

Juliet O'Hara had always wanted to be a life model. Not to boss people around or to be at the top, or _at least,_ not only for that: she had wanted it to show the world that her inner voice could be the greatest strenght of her life. She had grown with a father too smart not to hear his own and too smug to follow it; Juliet wanted nothing more than demonstrate what awesome things you could do listening to it. She had studied hard since middle school; she had conveniently wore Backstreet Boys' shirts and then abolished them from her wardrobe; she had dated the right guys, followed the right classes and broke down in solitude at the right times. And seeing the proud looks on teachers and relatives, seeing how she was accepted appraised_ admired,_ she had felt happy, _really_ happy. In a fierce way that looked suspiciously like anger.

The problem was, there was not only_ that_ Juliet.

There was also an hurting Juliet stuffed deep in a closet, the snarky one that wrestled with her brothers, the nerd that spent nights watching Star Trek's reruns; the one that found boys stupid and wanted to jump on them, the one who loved the feeling of a madly-powerful engine roaring under her: the one that smashed Bethany's nose at the cheerleader camp and _felt great_ doing it. She wasn't sure having so much people under your skin was good, but she also knew by experience that her gens, if neglected, just found their way to burn up; bottle up your shades and some day you would run away without even kissing your daughter.

She wouldn't do it. Not until she had breath in her. So, she let the other Juliets spread in the little things. Details, tiny habits she could pass like cute quirks with a smile an a blond-hair fluff. It was only counting them that the truth would be revealed. She still didn't know if she hoped or feared that moment.

Juliet wore high heels, and owned an impressive collection of fluffy cartoon slippers; she had had years of aerobics but still danced like a rustled robot. Juliet tried every time to have breakfast with bran or healthy cereals; and everytime she ended buying the most sugary and artificial-colored type in the aisle.

So she recognized instantly the gaudy box bulging from the half-closed drawer. Except she was in the relax room of the precinct. Except she didn't buy it. And not one, but_ three_ boxes.

She stopped, peering through the glass door. It was awfully late, the gray hour when the last day officers got angrily sleepy and the night ones were still smoking the last cigarettes on the stairs. She had all the time to sneak around a bit.

The conference-turned-lunch table was empty, but the coffee pot was rumbling on the counter. A distinct sound of munching and scratched cardboard was coming from behind the kitchen door. Juliet frowned. Who in the whole world has cereals and coffee together?

She walked across the room, ready to catch a newbie in hormonal crisis or one of secretaries in post- breakup misery. _Not Jenna, please not Jenna again._

What she found somehow made even more sense.

-Detective?-

Carlton Lassiter, her partner, her senior tutor, Head Detective of SBPD, was stuffing in his mouth angry handfuls of multicolor cereals, picking directly from the box planted on his stomach and scowling darkly at the wall in front of him. And by the hollow sounds, he had already scarfed down half packet.

The weirdest thing was that she wasn't even surprised.

_Coffee and cereals? I should have known_.

At the sound of her voice he turned sharply, eyes panicked over the hamster-like cheeks. -O'Hara...- he spluttered, nearly choked, tried again. -You should not...I was...I don't...-

She took a step back, wavering her hands as to erase that vision.

_Oh crap oh crap oh crap. _-Oh, no, no problem, no problem, I wasn't...I mean...I'm sorry, I...-

Silence. Juliet widened her eyes, Lassiter didn't move. The coffee seeping in its pot was deafening.

_Oh crap. I'll be fired he will get mad he's always mad oh crap what I've done you just can't stay put Juliet I. _

_I._

And there, it hit her. She was in a cabbage-smelling kitchen, after a shift of ten hours, and had just caught her boss stuffing himself with a kind of cereals even her seven-years-old nephews found too unhealthy. And the embarrassment changed in something else.

She snorted suddenly, earning a deadly glare by Lassiter.

-Sorry, it's just that...-She frantically tried to find an excuse, and it just made her laugh harder. Stopping was impossible.

He scowled. -I was _thinking_.-

-Oh, sure. And the cereals...-

-Sugar. Fundamental for the neurons. Serotonin.-

-Mmm. I see.- She repressed a giggle, watching him stalling; considering his next move like a scolded kid. It felt pretty good seeing him doing something idiotic, something human. It felt _right_.

-Well, I suppose it's time to go. Goodnight, O'Hara.-

She realized he was getting up, stuffing the box under one arm and cursing at the fall of neon-colored pills on his pants. And Juliet had the perfect impression that this was one of those moments, the ones when you're about to give a big turn to your life and can actually feel it shift under your fingers.

She would not have other possibilities, to begin it.

What_ it_ was, she didn't knew yet.

Juliet picked up a chair, pulling from the fridge a carton of milk.

-Wanna share?-

He didn't answer immediately; but slowly, Lassiter sat back. A shade of approval on his face.

-Why not, O'Hara. Why not.-

She didn't know it, but finding her boss scoffing cereals would be one of the best thing in her life.


	2. Good Playmates

_Here we are at the second installament of my story! Anothery sappy slice of life, because they make me happy. I just loved that episode when Lassie and Jules ran toward the brand-new armors like sugar-high kids on Christmas, and this idea just popped up in my mind. I have this certainty that Carlton manages to understand parts of Juliet she herself can't fully accept, and vice versa. Anyway, enjoy._

**Good Playmates**

The bullet hit her hard, right at the center of the chest. There was no blood, not even pain; she just found herself on the ground, gasping for air and staring at the clear sky. One thought pumped through her head.

_That's crazy. That can't be happening._

She closed her eyes, breath deafening.

She waited.

-You okay, O'Hara?- Carlton's shoes clacked nearer, and the next moment a hand stretched toward her.

-Yeah, I'm fine.- Juliet grabbed the hand, pulling herself up. She grinned. -Whoa, this thing is...-

-...Incredible? Thrilling? _Poignant_?- Lassiter had the same expression of a overjoyed child. A gun-holding, border-line child, but however.

-Seriously, this body armor is worth every penny.- She began to undo the straps on the side, brushing admirantly the three-inch layer of padding and cop elegance. -And it's so _sophisticated_.-

-Yes, in the end I ordered the slim version. 'Figured you would like it.-

She smiled to him, touched. There they were, the moments because of she firmly believed Carlton wasn't a robot and because of she couldn't explain why.

-Thank you, partner.- she bumped his shoulder. -And thanks for letting me try it, I know how much you love it.-

He shrugged in the nonchalant way she taught him. -Oh, no problem. I still have the right over the SWAT helmet, after all.-

They returned to the rear of the precinct, leaning against the heap of boxes and water cooler bottles; she finished to untie the vest, while he unloaded the rubber bullets from the gun. It was a fair April morning, with the heat hovering on the skin like gold and the sky a sweet glossy blue. They had just closed a big case and the chief had benevolently let them go "playing with their new toy." Not really flattering, but they hadn't been picky.

She inspired deeply. The air smelled of blossoms and concrete and sun.

-O'Hara.-

-Yeah?- she turned, catching the sly twinkle in her partner's eyes. The one that led to either cases ending with gross killings or car pursuits ending with her grey-skinned.

-Mmm, nothing. Just a new Test for body armors I read on Cop Magazine. Not so interesting.-

-What is it?-

-Nah, O'Hara, trust me.- The twinke got brighter. -You would find it dangerous and childish, I'm sure.-

She leant forward without even knowing it. -Carlton, spit it out.-

He didn't answer; she waited patiently.

And finally the facade fell.

-Okay- he turned, face flushed by excitement. -We need a double-barrelled shotgun, three buckets of alcohol and a very fast motorcycle.-

Juliet's eyes widened in awe, the smile going wild. And she thought about how many persons you could be at the same time. Seeing her in that moment a lot of friends, a lot of uncles and aunts and teachers would be beyond shock; Hell, even Shawn looked her with wide eyes when she acted as a real cop. But what they didn't understand, _would never understand_, was that in that moment she was neither the good blond girl you ask out after school nor the responsible class representative of the last year. She wasn't Juliet; she was O'Hara.

_And if her best friend didn't know how to cheer Juliet, he knew perfectly well how to brighten O'Hara._

She jumped down, fighting with the vest straps.

-What are we waiting for?-


End file.
